


Doorbells

by tatooedlaura



Series: Life [44]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 16:15:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9449945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatooedlaura/pseuds/tatooedlaura
Summary: damn ding-dang doorbells ...





	

Pudding eaten, monument visited, Cape Hatteras Lighthouse touristed, sandcastles built, runaway nameless dog caught and returned to grateful owner, shells collected for Scully’s nieces and nephews, “hey, Scully, can you take out my stitches?”

“What?”

“I have clean scissors and everything, just, can you take them out? They’re itchy and pulling and I think they need to be gone.”

It had been almost a week and after inspection, Scully deemed them healed enough to remove safely. “This might hurt. Just warning you.”

“I have had 387 stitches removed from my body in the last six years, I can handle another 22 being taken out.”

Swatting his arm as she turned him so he could sit down, “it has not been 387.”

“I keep track. If you look at the edge of my desk at home, there are 387 notches along the side.”

She’d seen those before but had decided not to ask, “I just figured those were the number of fish you’d killed since you moved in.”

Shaking his head, which she immediately grabbed to still so she didn’t give him need for more sewing up as a result of the sharp scissors impaling his scalp, “no. Those are the marker lines on the shelves beside the tank. I’ve only massacred 43 fish.”

Beginning her removal of the threads, he didn’t even flinch, “I have a feeling you are telling me the truth.”

“Why would I lie about dead fish?”

“Sympathy.” Methodically dropping the freed cotton twists onto the table beside him, she kept her hand on him, knowing if she moved it, he’d be all over the map with his talking and hand gesturing and head bobbing and she’d need to then strap him to the chair to stay still, “someone has been feeding them, right? Frohike?”

“I actually had the guys fish them out, take my portable tank and keep them in the Lair.”

This stopped her, “the Lair?”

“The Lair.”

“I can hear the capital letter, Mulder.”

“You’re supposed to.” Reaching up, he toyed with the elbow of the arm steadying him, “I talked them out of calling it the ‘Strategically Hidden Impenetrable Tech Cave’.”

“The SHIT Cave … oh, my God, it’s like they’re the oldest, smartest, 13-year old idiots I’ve ever known.”

“So, see, the Lair is better.”

Almost to the end, she slowed, leaning over to look him in the eye, “Lair stands for something, too, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, yes it does.”

She stayed silent until the last one slid out, then putting the scissors down, she first inspected the scabby scar carefully, then twisted his head with her hand, meeting his gaze, her eyes dancing, “I’m not sure I want to know but I really want to know.”

“I’ll tell you when I think you’re ready.”

Scully pushed him away gently, “you’re done. I’d wait on a full shampoo until tomorrow but I think you’ll be fine.”

Gathering up the brown threads, he tossed them in the trash, “what about the ones in my leg?”

“They’ll dissolve. Usually in about two weeks. The outside pieces will just fall off. You probably won’t even notice.”

As he hobbled towards the windows, “basically, just follow the trail of thread to me. I’m a modern day Hansel and Gretel.”

Deciding to throw him off balance because she could, she scooted up behind him, standing on her toes so her mouth reached his ear, “I’d find you anywhere, Mulder, you should know that by now. I don’t need a trail of thread or discarded dirty t-shirts to do it.”

He moved to rest his head on her lips, “that makes me feel good.”

She’d been semi-joking with him but hearing the seriousness in his voice sobered her up, “you know I was serious yesterday when I said you were the most significant thing in my world, right? That wasn’t just night, Ibuprofen and exhaustion talking. I will find you anywhere, Mulder. I hope I don’t have to go to the extent of another Antarctic tour but understand that I’d fly to Jupiter to get you back.”

“I thought it was to the moon and back.”

“Screw the moon. I’d go way the hell further for you.”

Once he felt her arms move around his waist, he let his forehead fall against the glass of the window, looking down to see her clasped hands against his belly. Wondering if now would be a good time for that make-out session, there was a knock on the front door that made them both jump.

“Who the hell is that and tell them to go the hell away!”

Briefly pressing her cheek to his spine, she backed away, “I don’t know but I’ll get rid of them.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

Mulder was leaning, cast hovering its usual two inches from the ground, internally screaming at the officer now standing in the small entryway. When he had rented the house, he’d needed to use his credit card, which brought up his FBI status, which in turn got the rental woman asking about their jobs, which led to him telling her that Scully was a forensic pathologist and when asked what that was, Mulder dumbed it down to, ‘she does autopsies to find out what happened to dead people and why they died’.

It should have stopped there but given the whole of the Outer Banks were small communities tightly knit together, word spread fast and the travel agent heard from her brother-in-law who heard from his best friend who got it from his uncle who worked on the Dare County Police Force that there was a body they couldn’t determine the cause of death on and after a phone tree occurrence of about an hour and a half, there was a cop on the front porch of Babar.

Scully hung her head, unable to say ‘no’ but from the stiffness of her back and the tightened muscles he could see in her neck, Mulder wondered if maybe he would have to go and clamp her arms down to keep her from hitting the poor defenseless officer. Once the door was shut, however, all bets were off when she turned in his direction, seriously stomping her foot several times before taking a deep breathe, whisper-screaming so the poor man still in the vicinity couldn’t hear her, “I’m on vacation!!”

“I know you are and it’s my fault.” Owning up immediately to having told the rental agency about their careers, “I could never have even fathomed they’d track you down for something.”

Shaking her head, “It’s not your fault.”

“Are we leaving now?”

“I can probably do this alone. It’s only a body. They don’t have any reason to believe it’s anything more than that but they’d like to know what happened sooner than later.”

The body found was apparently the wife of somebody who mattered in one of the towns along the coast and Scully’d been requested immediately, “are you sure you don’t want me to go? I mean, I can’t help much with the cast but I could come, keep you company, dry-heave at the sight of a bloated body three days in the ocean.”

Watching him turn slightly green as he spoke, she smiled, “I think I’ll be fine. Stay here. Enjoy the beach. Watch TV. Don’t take you cast off.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She moved forward, catching his downcast eyes, “are you really sad not to be coming with me?”

Lifting those green orbs to hers, he shrugged, “you I like, the body I can live without.”

“I’ll be back tonight, all right. Probably late but I’ll be back. Don’t freak out when I come in the door, beat me down with a crutch or something.”

“I’ll leave a light on for you.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

Once she’d pulled away, gotten her shoes on and headed out the door, he got an idea.

A good idea.

A pretty good idea, actually.

And he sprang into action … well, as much as a casted individual can spring.


End file.
